


A Woman's Touch

by celizamarie00



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:02:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16540334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celizamarie00/pseuds/celizamarie00
Summary: Half Hobbit/Half Dwarf is never an easy life to live. Now throw in hiding amongst Hobbits and then 13 dwarves show up on your friend's doorstep. How do you respond? Well join the quest and never look back. [Thorin x Original Character]





	1. Chapter 1

The dwarves has descended upon Bilbo Baggins’ home—Bag End—and he had never been more overwhelmed. He stood by the door watching the 12 dwarves ravage his kitchen.

“Bilbo!” A knock at the door and a woman’s voice called out, “Is everything alright? I have those books you asked for.” The men at the table stilled a little and peered towards the round door. Bilbo opened the door and there stood a young woman whose face was hidden behind a stack of books.

“Ah Miss Cala, please come in. Come in. I’m sorry, I forgot about this delivery,” Bilbo tried to lead the young woman, but she bumped into the side of the door and the books and Cala sprawled across the floor. Bilbo, Fili and Kili knelt down to help her.

“Oh, Bilbo I’m so sorry. I’ve been running around all day and when I saw the lights on and people outside and figured you would be home. I didn’t know you had so many guests,” Cala gathered up the books and hear someone start talking to the fellow hobbit, but paid it little attention as she reorganized the novels..

“Carefully! Carefully!” The unknown voice said. “It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Cala stacked the final books on a coffee table and stared at the massive quantity hanging from Bilbo’s coat stand. She watched as the tallest dwarf she had ever seen added his to the pile. He had entered Bag End with little ceremony and had yet to speak. He turned and his sapphire eyes burned into Cala’s emerald ones. She broke the connection and realized that everyone had fallen silent and were staring in their direction. Her cheeks warmed and she stared down at the book delivery.

“I’m sorry again for interrupting your meal,” she adjusted the books on top of the stack one last time, “I’ll just take my leave. Apologies again.” She backed up and walked backwards right into a solid chest of muscle. She turned around and looked up into annoyed, stormy-blue eyes and quickly started for the door after mumbling an apology. Fear ran through her as she truly started to comprehend she was in such close quarters with 13 dwarves. A group she had avoided for quite a long time.

Gandalf’s voice called out in the silence, “Nonsense! Please stay.”

Cala turned around and saw her favorite wizard. She let out a gasp, “Gandalf! I didn’t even see you!” She hugged the grey wizard as he let out a laugh.

“Calamintha distracted by books even when they aren’t hers,” he turned to the group, “Now we are all here!” said Gandalf, looking at the group of dwarves and the two hobbits, “Quite a merry gathering! I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink. What’s that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think, for me.”

“And for me,” said Thorin.

“And raspberry jam and apple-tart,” said Bifur.

“And mince-pies and cheese,” said Bofur.

“And pork-pie and salad,” said Bombur.

“And more cakes-and ale-and coffee, if you don’t mind,” called the other dwarves through the door.

“Put on a few eggs, there’s a good fellow!” Gandalf called after him, as the hobbit stumped off to the pantries. “And just bring out the cold chicken and pickles!”  
   
_“Seems to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!”_ thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his house. By the time he had got all the bottles and dishes and knives and forks and glasses and plates and spoons and things piled up on big trays, he was getting very hot, and red in the face, and annoyed.  
   
“Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!” he said aloud. “Why don’t they come and lend a hand?” Lo and behold! There stood Balin and Dwalin at the door of the kitchen, and Fili and Kili behind them, and before he could say knife they had whisked the trays and a couple of small tables into the parlour and set out everything afresh. Calamintha stood in the corner, taking in the chaos before her and her heart went out to poor Bilbo, who loved his organized home more than anything.

“Gandalf sat at the head of the party with the thirteen, dwarves all round: and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his appetite was quite taken away), and trying to look as if this was all perfectly ordinary and not in the least an adventure. Cala sat beside Gandalf and started to catch up with the wizard she had not seen in nearly six years. The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses.  
“I suppose you will all stay to supper?” he said in his politest unpressing tones. 

“Of course!” said Thorin. “And after. We shan’t get through the business till late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!” Cala scoffed at the rude dwarf who had barged into Bilbo’s home, eaten all of the food and then didn’t even bother to help. Thereupon the twelve dwarves-not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: “please be careful!” and “please, don’t trouble! I can manage.” But the dwarves only started to sing:  
   
_Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_  
  
 _Blunt the knives and bend the forks!_  
  
 _That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates-_  
  
 _Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_  
  
 _Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!_  
  
 _Pour the milk on the pantry floor!_  
  
 _Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!_  
  
 _Splash the wine on every door!_  
  
 _Dump the crocks in a boiling bawl;_  
  
 _Pound them up with a thumping pole;_  
  
 _And when you’ve finished, if any are whole,_  
  
 _Send them down the hall to roll !_  
  
 _That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_  
  
 _So, carefully! carefully with the plates!_

And of course they did none of these dreadful things, and Cala helped with everything in the kitchen and ensured that things were cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, while Bilbo was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they were doing. Cala came up behind him and placed a calming hand on Bilbo’s shoulder while leading him to the table that held the most obnoxious dwarf she ever encountered and the kind wizard, who were speaking in hushed tones. “Bilbo, sit here. Take a deep breath and I will go make you some tea. Don’t worry too much. I’ll keep an eye on the kitchen and the dwarves and make sure everything goes back in its place.”

She walked back to the kitchen and brewed a cup of chamomile tea and brought it back to the hyperventilating dwarf. She found Thorin with his feet on the table smoking a pipe. He was blowing the most enormous smoke-rings, and wherever he told one to go, it went-up the chimney, or behind the clock on the mantelpiece, or under the table, or round and round the ceiling; but wherever it went it was not quick enough to escape Gandalf. Pop! he sent a smaller smoke-ring from his short clay-pipe straight through each one of Thorin’s. The Gandalf’s smoke-ring would go green and come back to hover over the wizard’s head. Cala looked and Gandalf, “I know you are part of the reason that this hoard has descended on Bilbo’s house. What on earth is going on? I’ve never known dwarves to act so rambunctiously. Bilbo looks like he is about to keel over watching these animals ravage his house,” she then turned to Thorin, “And you! Were you raised in a barn? Take your feet off the table!”

Before Gandalf could speak, Thorin looked Cala up and down disdainfully and turned to Gandalf, “Why exactly is this woman here? She has no right to be exposed to our plans and I doubt she has anything to offer this quest. Other than her unfounded opinions on how dwarves should conduct themselves.”

“This woman is here because she has the right to visit a friend. Seeing that I was invited and as I look around here, it shows that you were clearly uninvited guests, I highly doubt you have any right to question where I go or how I form my opinions on people.” Cala was fuming at the angry dwarf, but before he could respond, the rest of the dwarfs came out of the kitchen and took in the scene before them. Thorin, at the table, with an angrier look than usual on his face, and the young hobbit girl glaring at their king. Kili and Fili, Thorin’s nephews, took in the scene and decided to break the tension.

“Bring out the instruments!” Kili and Fili rushed for their bags and brought back little fiddles; Dori, Nori, and Ori brought out flutes from somewhere inside their coats; Bombur produced a drum from the hall; Bifur and Bofur went out too, and came back with clarinets that they had left among the walking-sticks Dwalin and Balin said: “Excuse me, I left mine in the porch!” “Just bring mine in with you,” said Thorin. They came back with viols as big as themselves, and with Thorin’s harp wrapped in a green cloth. It was a beautiful golden harp, and when Thorin struck it the music began all at once. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music.

__“Far over the misty mountains cold  
   
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
   
We must away ere break of day  
   
To seek the pale enchanted gold.  
   
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,  
   
While hammers fell like ringing bells  
   
In places deep, where dark things sleep,  
   
In hollow halls beneath the fells.  
   
For ancient king and elvish lord  
   
There many a gloaming golden hoard  
   
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught  
   
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.  
   
On silver necklaces they strung  
   
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung  
   
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire  
   
They meshed the light of moon and sun.  
   
Far over the misty mountains cold  
   
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
   
We must away, ere break of day,  
   
To claim our long-forgotten gold.  
   
Goblets they carved there for themselves  
   
And harps of gold; where no man delves  
   
There lay they long, and many a song  
   
Was sung unheard by men or elves.  
   
The pines were roaring on the height,  
   
The winds were moaning in the night.  
   
The fire was red, it flaming spread;  
   
The trees like torches biased with light,  
   
The bells were ringing in the dale  
   
And men looked up with faces pale;  
   
The dragon’s ire more fierce than fire  
   
Laid low their towers and houses frail.  
   
The mountain smoked beneath the moon;  
   
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.  
   
They fled their hall to dying -fall  
   
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.  
   
Far over the misty mountains grim  
   
To dungeons deep and caverns dim  
   
We must away, ere break of day,  
   
To win our harps and gold from him!

Thorin’s baritone voice rolled over Cala and her eyes misted over as she heard a song that hadn’t been uttered since her father’s death. Gandalf saw the young woman start to become overwhelmed and guided her out of Bag’s End to sit and calm herself. “I shouldn’t have stayed Gandalf. I should have dropped off the books and left. I’ve managed to stay hidden all this time and now I’m in a house with 13 dwarves. I haven’t seen a dwarf since father’s death and I was perfectly happy living that way.”

“My dear, being a dwarf is part of you. Just as being a hobbit is. You can not simply ignore half of your being. Your father was a great warrior and dwarf and he passed on so much wisdom to you. You’ve spent too long in the shadows pretending to be something you’re not. This may not have been my original plan, but I don’t know how I didn’t think of it sooner. Join this quest, be the glue the joins the dwarves and Bilbo together. You have an understanding of both cultures, plus you have the skills to defend Bilbo and even train him.”

“Gandalf, this is too much. You’re asking to reveal a part of me I haven’t had to face in years. To leave my home and maybe never come back. The dwarves won’t accept me, I’m a half-breed. You know how they are. Plus, how do you expect Bilbo to join this quest? He has no fighting skills. He would hate me for never telling him about my parentage. I would loose the only true friend I have if I revealed myself.”

“If Bilbo is willing to end your friendship over this, then he is not a true friend, as you said. I believe Bilbo would be glad to have a friend on this journey and he would likely not hold the fact that your half dwarf against you. Come back inside, hear out the plan, and if you still are so sure it’s a bad idea, I’ll never bother you with it again.” Cala gave the slightest nod and allowed herself to be led back into the house, where the music had come to an end. Thorin saw the duo enter and went to protest, but was silenced by Gandalf with a look. Cala settled herself into a chair on the opposite side of the room and watched with silent interest as Gandalf approached the rowdy group of dwarves.

“Hush!” said Gandalf. “Let Thorin speak!”

And this is how Thorin began,  “Gandalf, dwarves and Mr. Baggins(entirely ignoring Cala’s presence)! We are not together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale!-” He paused for breath and for a polite remark from the hobbit, but the compliments were quite lost on poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest at being called audacious and worst of all fellow conspirator, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. So Thorin went on: “We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us (except our friend and counsellor, the ingenious wizard Gandalf) may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr. Baggins, and perhaps to one or two of the younger dwarves, the exact situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation-“

This was Thorin’s style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until he was out of breath, without telling any one there ‘anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted. Poor Bilbo couldn’t bear it any longer. At may never return he began to feel a shriek coming up inside, and very soon it burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel. All the dwarves sprang up knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a blue light on the end of his magic staff, and in its firework glare the poor little hobbit could be seen kneeling on the hearth-rug, shaking like a jelly that was melting. Cala jumped up and ran over to Bilbo. Then he fell flat on the floor, and kept on calling out “struck by lightning, struck by lightning!” over and over again; and that was all they could get out of him for a long time. So they took him and laid him out of the way on the drawing-room sofa with a drink at his elbow. Cala went into his kitchen and got a cold towel and laid it on his forehead while the dwarves went back to their dark business.

“Excitable little fellow,” said Gandalf, as they sat down again. “Gets funny queer fits, but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a dragon in a pinch. Cala can take care of him while we continue this discussion.”

After a while, Bilbo came to and with the drink in hand, he crept nervously to the door of the parlour. This is what he heard, Gloin speaking: “Humph!” (or some snort more or less like that). “Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek like that in a moment of excitement would be enough to wake the dragon and all his relatives, and kill the lot of us. I think it sounded more like fright than excitement! In fact, if it had not been for the sign on the door, I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer-than a burglar!”

Bilbo and Cala continued to listen from the sofa and heard Gandalf speak up, “Trust me, he is the one you want and Cala will be another excellent addition.”

“No,” Thorin’s rough voice rang out, “She is not joining us. I’m not taking care of two hobbits on this journey. Especially, such an impetuous female hobbit.”

“Thorin, these hobbits will be the key to your success on this quest. As for Cala, she has a unique set of skills that will help be a great help to solidifying this group.” Cala stiffened and prayed that Gandalf stopped there, but he didn’t. 

“Gandalf, no.” Cala voice was firm and unwavering, but her warning was drowned out.

“Cala is not a full hobbit. Her father was, in fact, a dwarf.” Cala didn’t wait for Gandalf to finish his explanation or to see other’s reactions. She felt Bilbo’s eyes settle on her and she was out of the door. The dwarves turned to see the red curls disappear out the door.

“As I was saying, Cala can provide help to this group. She can help your two groups work together and be a guard for Bilbo.” Speaking of Bilbo, he was still sitting on the couch, completely in shock that his friend was not a full hobbit and confused why she hadn’t told him. Thorin was growing increasingly vocal about his dislike of the hobbits joining and Bilbo looked back and forth between the door and the group and decided to join them at his table and give Cala a moment alone.

“That’s right,” said Gandalf. “Let’s have no more argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and Calamintha and that ought to be enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes and she will be his companion. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself. You may all live to thank me yet. Now Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let’s have little light on this!”

“Gandalf, Cala left.”

“I’m aware, Bilbo. She just needs some time. She was incredible reluctant to share this information and I don’t think she knew how upfront I was going to be.”

The dwarves gathered around Thror’s, Thorin’s grandfather, map and planned their journey. They spoke of runes and the key. Hours passed with planning and Thorin giving the tale of the dragon to Bilbo. They finally broke apart and decided to rest for a while before beginning their journey, unsure if Bilbo would sign the contract and be their robber. Bilbo left for his room and the dwarves spread out across the house.

Oin announced he was going for a smoke and left the house. He was walking along the path down the hill until he came upon Cala sitting beneath a tree. She made no move to indicate she heard him and when he placed a hand upon her shoulder she jumped, “Master Dwarf!”

He joined her on the ground, “Now dear, there is no need for such formality. Just Oin will do.” Cala nodded, but made no move to speak. Oin could feel the anxiety coming off of the young woman in waves. He sat beside her awhile, waiting to see if she would speak but no sounds came.

“No one judges ye lass,” Oin finally decided to speak. Cala turned her head and looked into his eyes, looking for any sign of a lie. He saw she needed more, “It’s not too big a deal to me, at least. Sure it’s shocking, I’ve never met anyone like you, but you shouldn’t be afraid.”

Cala released a weighted sigh, “It’s something I’ve not spoken about for nearly 6 years. When my father died, I lost all ties to the dwarven world and I looked enough like a hobbit to live amongst them. I’m a little taller, but it’s never been questioned and finally I’d been living like this for so long, it became easier and I made a friend or two,” she groaned at the thought of her friend and ran her hands through her hair, “Bilbo must hate me.”

“He didn’t seem mad lass, just confused and then he became enthralled with Thorin and Gandalf’s tales and plans for Erebor.”

“Erebor? Thorin?”

“Aye lass, our quest is to retake it. No one has seen the dragon in ages and Thorin has decided to return. You’ve missed plenty while here. Thorin is Thror’s grandson. He’s the rightful heir and King Under the Mountain.”

“You’re telling me that that grumpy pain in the ass is the King. Oh God! I yelled at the king!”

Oin let out a bark of a laugh, “When did that happen?”

“When I left you all in the kitchen to help Bilbo and well he was being rude and I just got so mad and I scolded him.”

Oin laughed again, “Maybe you do have some dwarven forge fire inside you. Only a dwarf would go head to head with Thorin,” he gathered himself and became serious, “Why not join us lass? Come home to where you belong. Even a half dwarf is enough dwarf for me. Help reclaim it for your father.”

“I don’t have anywhere I belong. I’m not full hobbit and I’m not full dwarf. I’ve had to lie just to build my life here.”

“Then make your own place to belong. Erebor must be rebuilt. Why not make it a place that you could live freely? Join us lass. Don’t waste your life only living it halfway.” Cara looked up at Oin and gave a silent nod. He gave her his hand and helped her rise and they started the journey back up the hill. Little did they know, that Thorin had watched the two while sitting on the bench outside of Bag End. He had caught snippets of their conversation as he sat and smoking his pipe while humming his mournful tune.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like the first installment of this story. I was sitting by my window, listening to Richard Armitage's beautiful voice singing Misty Mountain and started writing. I have no plans at the moment for how this story plays out or how long it will be. Writing things like this are my escape from uni papers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is quite a bit shorter than last chapter, but it's a bit of filler for next chapter where the drama begins. Also, an estoc is a very think sword. Enjoy!

The next morning, Bilbo was awakened by rapid knocking on his front door. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, taking in the mess that was his home. He shuffled to the door and found Cala and Gandalf at his front door. My dear fellow,” said he, “whenever are you going to come? What about an early start?-and here you are having breakfast, or whatever you call it, at half past ten! They left you the message, because they could not wait.”

“What message?” said poor Mr. Baggins all in a fluster.

“If you had dusted the mantelpiece you would have found this just under the clock,” said Gandalf, handing Bilbo a note (written, of course, on his own note-paper).  
   
This is what he read:  
   
_Thorin and Company to Burglar Bilbo and his Companion Calamintha greetings!_  
  
 _For your hospitality our sincerest thanks, and for your offer of professional assistance our grateful acceptance. Terms: cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one fourteenth of total profits (if any); all traveling expenses guaranteed in any event; funeral expenses to be defrayed by us or our representatives, if occasion arises and the matter is not otherwise arranged for._  
  
 _Thinking it unnecessary to disturb your esteemed repose, we have proceeded in advance to make requisite preparations, and shall await your respected person at the Green Dragon Inn, Bywater, at II a.m. sharp. Trusting that you will be punctual._  
 _We have the honour to remain yours deeply_

_ Thorin & Co. _

“That leaves you just ten minutes. We will have to run,” said Cala.

“But—” said Bilbo.  
   
“No time for it,” said the wizard.

“But—”said Bilbo again.  
   
“No time for that either! Off you two go!”

To the end of his days Bilbo could never remember how he found himself outside with Cala, without a hat, walking-stick or say money, or anything that he usually took when he went out; leaving his second breakfast half-finished and quite unwashed-up, pushing his keys into Gandalf’s hands, and running as fast as his furry feet could carry him down the lane, past the great Mill, across The Water, and then on for a whole mile or more. Very puffed he was, when he got to Bywater just on the stroke of eleven, and found he had come without a pocket-handkerchief! Cala ran by his side, her estoc in the scabbard on her back along with her pack, and daggers in her boots  
   
“Bravo!” said Balin who was standing at the inn door looking out for him.

Just then all the others came round the corner of the road from the village. “Lass!” Oin called out happily, “I’m so glad you decided to come.” Everyone was on ponies, and each pony was slung about with all kinds of baggages, packages, parcels, and paraphernalia. There was a very small pony, apparently for Bilbo.

“You two can share,” grunted Thorin, barely acknowledging her presence.

“I’m awfully sorry,” said Bilbo, “but I have come without my hat, and I have left my pocket-handkerchief behind, and I haven’t got any money. I didn’t get your note until after 10.45 to be precise.”  
   
“Don’t be precise,” said Dwalin, “and don’t worry! You will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey’s end. As for a hat, I have got a spare hood and cloak in my luggage for you burglar and Oin has it for the lass.”

Cala helped Bilbo onto the pony and then swung up behind him and grabbed the reins.

They had not been riding very long when up came Gandalf very splendid on a white horse. He had brought a lot of pocket-handkerchiefs, and Bilbo’s pipe and tobacco. So after that the party went along very merrily, and they told stories or sang songs as they rode forward all day, except of course when they stopped for meals. Cala always ate separate from the group, feeling isolated and alone. If Bilbo and Gandalf noticed, they said nothing and decided to let Cala deal with her own problems.

In truth, they had noticed and when Oin has gone to join her, Gandalf had stopped him and explained that Cala had to deal with her own demons and nothing they did could fight them other than her. “She’s been in hiding a long time Oin. We just let her figure out herself. Just be there when you can, but we can’t save her if she won’t save herself.” 

Oin looked at the hobbit and wizard, “I won’t interfere in your plan to help her, but as you said I should be there when I can and right now I can seat beside her and give her company during a meal.” He walked next to the small woman and started to engage her in conversation about her family.

The journey continued, first they had passed through hobbit-lands, a wild respectable country inhabited by decent folk, with good roads, an inn or two, and now and then a dwarf or a farmer ambling by on business. Then they came to lands where people spoke strangely, and sang songs Bilbo had never heard before. Now they had gone on far into the Lone-lands, where there were no people left, no inns, and the roads grew steadily worse. Not far ahead were dreary hills, rising higher and higher, dark with trees. On some of them were old castles with an evil look, as if they had been built by wicked people. Everything seemed gloomy, for the weather that day had taken a nasty turn. Bilbo was positively miserable atop the pony. His legs and back ached and he was soaked through even with the hood and cloak. Callie looked only a little drier than Bilbo, her her hair weighed heavily, with the amount of water is had collected.

Finally, it came to the point where they would stop for the night and Balin called out, “Let’s try and find a cave and dry out for the night.” The Company all gave murmurs of agreement and found a cave to settle into. Bombur started to make dinner for the group while they set out their bedrolls and dried out. Cala stripped down to her bottom layer and laid out her clothes. She even removed her corset to dry out, knowing that the shirt was baggy enough that no one would know the difference. She felt the weight of eyes on her, yet when she turned, she couldn’t find the culprit. Her bottoms clung to her curves but she gave little care, too focused on getting warm. Her bindings dug into her, but there was nothing she could do until the rest of the company had gone to sleep. She got up to help Bombur serve dinner, carrying bowls to the group. Each member of the group smiled kindly to her and she felt a little lighter. She decided to sit with the group for the first time that night, needing the warmth of the fire.

The group was in better spirits and the conversation flowed easily. Fili and Kili joked and tossed around plates. As time went on, it was time to settle and Thorin took the first watch at the mouth of the cave. Cala waited for the snores to start and checked that Thorin’s back was turned before turning and pulling off her undershift and started to unwrap herself. Little did she know, her movement had caught Thorin’s watchful eye and he turned to see her bare back exposed to him. He made to turn away but he felt drawn to her soft curves and traced her waist and how it softly rounded out to her hips. She may have had the height of a hobbit but she had the curves of a dwarrow and he was drawn in. He watched as she reached behind her and started to rebind her breasts. His thoughts wandered to earlier when her taut stomach was revealed as she stripped her corset off. He felt his trousers tighten, but quickly shook his head and turned back around, annoyed at himself for feeling anything for the annoying half-breed. He heard her movements as she pulled her shift back on and laid down on her bedroll and he started to pay attention to the opening of the cave. The company settled in for the night and silence settled on the cave. Others tried to take Thorin’s place on watch but he declined. The next morning, as soon as the sun started to rise, the group arose and started to clear up. Thorin stayed in his position, watching over his company. Cala, once again, rose to help Bombur with feeding everyone. She grabbed a bowl of porridge and a cup of coffee and brought it over to Thorin.

“I wanted to apologize,” Thorin looked up in surprise, “I don’t regret standing up Bilbo, but I do feel bad for my tone. I didn’t realize who you were and if I… well I’m just sorry.” Cala finished her small speech and hurried away before Thorin could respond. He watched as she moved around, thoroughly confused by her. He ate quickly and they all left the cave for another day of riding.


	3. Chapter 3

The company had been riding hard for a few days, when one of the ponies took fright at nothing and bolted. He got into the river before they could catch him; and before they could get him out again, Fili and Kili were nearly drowned, and all the baggage that he carried was washed away off him. Of course it was mostly food, and there was mighty little left for supper, and less for breakfast. 

They all sat glum and wet and muttering, while Oin and Gloin went on trying to light the fire, and quarrelling about it. Bilbo was sadly reflecting that adventures are not all pony-rides in May-sunshine, when Balin said: “There’s a light over there!” There was a hill some way off with trees on it, pretty thick in parts. Out of the dark mass of the trees they could now see a light shining, a reddish comfortable-looking light, as it might be a fire or torches twinkling. When they had looked at it for some while, they fell to arguing. Some said “no” and some said “yes.” Some said they could but go and see, and anything was better than little supper, less breakfast, and wet clothes all the night.

Others said: “These parts are none too well known, and are too near the mountains. Travellers seldom come this way now. The old maps are no use: things have changed for the worse and the road is unguarded. They have seldom even heard of the king round here, and the less inquisitive you are as you go along, the less trouble you are likely to find.” Some said: “After all there are fifteen of us.” Others said: “Where has Gandalf got to?”

This remark was repeated by everybody. Then the rain began to pour down worse than ever, and Oin and Gloin began to fight. That settled it. “After all we have got a burglar with us,” they said; and so they made off, leading their ponies (with all due and proper caution) in the direction of the light. They came to the hill and were soon in the wood. Up the hill they went; but there was no proper path to be seen, such as might lead to a house or a farm; and do what they could they made a deal of rustling and crackling and creaking (and a good deal of grumbling and drafting), as they went through the trees in the pitch dark.  
   
Suddenly the red light shone out very bright through the tree-trunks not far ahead. “Now it is the burglar’s turn,” they said, meaning Bilbo. “You must go on and find out all about that light, and what it is for, and if all is perfectly safe and canny,” said Thorin to the hobbit. “Now scuttle off, and come back quick, if all is well. If not, come back if you can! It you can’t, hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl, and we will do what we can.” 

Cala shot a scared look at Thorin, but he returned a fierce glare that shut her down. She reached out and gave Bilbo a reassuring nod and slipped one of the daggers out of her boot and handed it to him.

Off Bilbo went and he saw three very large persons sitting round a very large fire of beech-logs. They were toasting mutton on long spits of wood, and licking the gravy off their fingers. There was a fine toothsome smell. Also there was a barrel of good drink at hand, and they were drinking out of jugs. But they were trolls. Obviously trolls. Even Bilbo, in spite of his sheltered life, could see that: from the great heavy faces of them, and their size, and the shape of their legs, not to mention their language, which was not drawing-room fashion at all, at all.  
   
“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrer,” said one of the trolls. The trolls continued to talk and curse. After hearing all this Bilbo ought to have done something at once. Either he should have gone back quietly and warned his friends that there were three fair-sized trolls at hand in a nasty mood, quite likely to try toasted dwarf, or even pony, for a change; or else he should have done a bit of good quick burgling. A really first-class and legendary burglar would at this point have picked the trolls’ pockets-it is nearly always worthwhile if you can manage it-, pinched the very mutton off the spite, purloined the beer, and walked off without their noticing him. Others more practical but with less professional pride would perhaps have stuck a dagger into each of them before they observed it. Then the night could have been spent cheerily.  
   
Bilbo knew it. He had read of a good many things he had never seen or done. He was very much alarmed, as well as disgusted; he wished himself a hundred miles away, and yet-and yet somehow he could not go straight back to Thorin and Company empty-handed. So he stood and hesitated in the shadows. Of the various burglarious proceedings he had heard of picking the trolls’ pockets seemed the least difficult, so at last he crept behind a tree just behind William. Then, Bilbo plucked up courage and put his little hand in William’s enormous pocket. There was a purse in it, as big as a bag to Bilbo. “Ha!” thought he warming to his new work as he lifted it carefully out, “this is a beginning!”  
   
It was! Trolls’ purses are the mischief, and this was no exception. “‘Ere, ‘oo are you?” it squeaked, as it left the pocket; and William turned round at once and grabbed Bilbo by the neck, before he could duck behind the tree.

The trolls fought amongst each other over what to do with him and the the sounds attracted the dwarves. Balin appeared first and no sooner did Tom see Balin come into the light than he gave an awful howl. Trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked). Bert and Bill stopped fighting immediately, and “a sack, Tom, quick!” they said, before Balin, who was wondering where in all this commotion Bilbo was, knew what was happening, a sack was over his head, and he was down. The trolls with their sacks in hand, kidnapped the dwarves and Cala. They through them together and the whole group wriggled around, trying to escape. Cala wriggled around, trying to pull the other dagger in her boot. Instead, she felt one of the dwarves’ chests up against her back. She wriggled again, but a gruff voice in her ear made her freeze, “Hold still lass. Your wriggling will do nothing.” Cala knew it was Thorin and ceased any movement realizing she was grinding against her angry leader.

Once again, as the dwarves tried their best to escape, the trolls began to fight as Gandalf impersonated their voices, turning them against each other and as light came over the hill turning the trolls to stone, Gandalf saved the dwarves. Thorin ran his hand down Cala’s calf and grabbed the aforementioned dagger. He felt her breath catch at the contact and cut her and some of the others free. He returned the dagger to her without a word and began to reorganize the group.

They traveled in hopes of finding the cave. They soon found the troll’s boot prints and followed them to large stone door leading to a cave. They attempted to force their way in with little luck, and finally Bilbo held up a key, “Would this be any good. I found it on the ground where the trolls had their fight.” Cala shot Bilbo an exasperated look and he looked apologetic while the others cried out.

Gandalf grabbed it and fitted it into the key-hole. Then the stone door swung back with one big push, and they all went inside. There were bones on the floor and a nasty smell was in the air; but there was a good deal of food jumbled carelessly on shelves and on the ground, among an untidy litter of plunder, of all sorts from brass buttons to pots full of gold coins standing in a corner. There were lots of clothes, too, hanging on the walls-too small for trolls. Several swords or various makes, shapes, and sizes were scattered across the floor. Two caught their eyes particularly, because of their beautiful scabbards and jewelled hilts. Gandalf and Thorin each took one of these; and Bilbo took a knife in a leather sheath. It would have made only a tiny pocket-knife for a troll, but it was as good as a short sword for the hobbit. He quickly returned the dagger to Cala with a quiet thanks. They carried out pots of coins, and any untouched food, including a barrel of ale that all the dwarves looked at lovingly. They now had bread and cheese, and plenty of ale, and bacon to toast in the embers of the fire.

They settled down again for the night, this time with plenty of food and a happier disposition. Cala sat between Fili and Kili, laughing until her sides ached. She looked across and saw Bilbo being trained by Thorin. He had taken off his large cloak, allowing Cala to take in his broad chest and muscled arms. He swung the sword above his head and his shirt fell open to reveal his chest and she sucked in air quickly. Fili and Kili saw how Cala’s eyes kept wandering over to their uncle. Her mind wandering back to how solid he had felt behind her and how his hand had ghosted over her legs. “He’s a great warrior, you know?”

“What?” Cala pulled her eyes away.

“Uncle. He’s a great warrior and is nice if ye get to know him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Nervous that her eyes had betrayed her thoughts.

“We may have overheard yer conversation to Thorin. Well I guess it doesn’t count as a conversation considering he never spoke.”

“You were listening in?”

“Sorry Cala,” the brothers had the decency to at least pretend to be ashamed, “We were just curious, because… well.. usuallyyedon’ttalktoanyofusjustGandalforBilbo.”

“What?”

“You don’t really talk to any of us, except Gandalf and Bilbo, and occasionally Oin and Bombur when you cook. Tonight was the first time you have really hung out with us. We know that you don’t like us, and we just got curious about why you were talking to him.

Cala looked shocked, “I don’t dislike you. Why would you think that?”

“Well you never used to sit in the circle and you don’t speak often,” the brothers looked torn about telling her their feelings.

“I’m so sorry,” Cala’s eyes welled up a little as guilt overtook her, “I didn’t mean to make you think I hated you. I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me because I’m a half-breed. I’m not a full dwarf and well people used to tell me the made me a freak. You are royalty and I am the daughter of a simple blacksmith and a hobbit. I’ve never fit in and I’ve been alone for so long.”

Fili and Kili looked horrified that people had called her these names, “People called you half-breed and freak to your face?”

“Just when I was younger. Once I pretended to be a hobbit, people were much kinder, so I just didn’t see the need to be a dwarf.” Before she could continue, Thorin and Bilbo returned to the circle. Cala looked up and saw Thorin staring at her. The tension was palpable. Fili and Kili gave each other a look over Cala’s head and winked. They had a plan. Get Cala and Thorin together and and make Cala feel as welcome as possible in their group.

As they settled in for the night, Kili looked at Fili, “I bet you they’ll be betrothed by Erebor.”

“You’re on,” Fili stuck out his hand and they shook hands. Bofur saw the exchange between brothers go down and made a note to ask them about it tomorrow.

That night, Cala had dreams of Thorin and her in positions she never planned on performing, and little did she know on the opposite side of the camp, Thorin was wrestling with similar dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are things happening between Thorin and Cala, could Fili and Kili be acting too prematurely, and did Thorin hear Cala talking about how being a hobbit was easier. find out next chapter ;)


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, the Company woke to Thorin demanding where Gandalf had been the day before. “Where did you go to, if I may ask?” said Thorin to Gandalf

“To look ahead,” said he.  
   
“And what brought you back in the nick of time?” 

“Looking behind,” said he.  
   
“Exactly!” said Thorin; “but could you be more plain?” Thorin heard Cala give out a laugh at his expense and he scowled in her direction.

“I went on to spy out our road. It will soon become dangerous and difficult. Also I was anxious about replenishing our small stock of provisions. I had not gone very far, however, when I met a couple of friends of mine from Rivendell.”  
   
“Where’s that?” asked Bilbo,  
   
“Don’t interrupt!” said Gandalf. “You will get there in a few days now, if we’re lucky, and find out all about it. As I was saying I met two of Elrond’s people. They were hurrying along for fear of the trolls. It was they who told me that three of them had come down from the mountains and settled in the woods not far from the road; they had frightened everyone away from the district, and they waylaid strangers.”  
   
“I immediately had a feeling that I was wanted back. Looking behind I saw a fire in the distance and made for it. So now you know. Please be more careful, next time, or we shall never get anywhere!”  
   
“Thank you!” said Thorin.

That day, they did not sing or tell stories, or the next, even though the weather improved; nor the next day, nor the day after. They had begun to feel that danger was not far away on either side. The paranoia was growing alongside the hunger. They camped under the stars, and their horses had more to eat than they had; for there was plenty of grass, but there was not much in their bags, even with what they had got from the trolls. Cala had started to put effort into getting to know the Company and had quickly forged bonds. Bifur was one of her favorites to be with. He didn't require her to speak and when they did it was simple and he seemed to gather great happiness from having someone new to speak to. He made Cala feel brighter when she practiced the minimal Khuzdul she had and he appreciated the simple gestures. One morning they forded a river at a wide shallow place full of the noise of stones and foam. The far bank was steep and slippery. When they got to the top of it, leading their ponies, they saw that the great mountains had marched down very near to them. Already they I seemed only a day’s easy journey from the feet of the nearest. Cala leaned over to Kili and Fili, who had taken to being her riding companions, since Bilbo was riding with Gandalf, “Is that The Mountain?”

“Nay lass, that’s but the start of the Misty Mountains.”

Gandalf road ahead and called for attention, “We must not miss the road, or we shall be done for,” he said. “We need food, for one thing, and rest in reasonable safety-also it is very necessary to tackle the Misty Mountains by the proper path, or else you will get lost in them, and have to come back and start at the beginning again (if you ever get back at all).“

They asked him where he was making for, and he answered: “You are come to the very edge of the Wild, as some of you may know. Hidden somewhere ahead of us is the fair valley of Rivendell where Elrond lives in the Last Homely House. I sent a message by my friends, and we are expected.”

“I am not asking for assistance from elves,” Thorin growled out and the dwarves sent out words of agreement. Bilbo and Cala watched on, growing increasingly confused by the second.

“What’s wrong with elves?” Cala’s voice called out. The dwarves spun around and eventually Dwalin spoke up, “They’re lazy, selfish good-for-nuthins.”

Cala looked on, having more questions than before and when she went to open her mouth, Thorin looked at her, “Just shut your mouth and understand they are no friends of dwarves. I suppose that’s not too much of a problem for you, but for us it’s everything.”

Cala looked down at her hands as her eyes began to sting. Of course Thorin didn’t think dwarven matters should be of issue to the half-breed. She nodded slightly and refused to look at anyone. It was now the rest of the Company’s turn to be confused about what was going on between their King and Cala, but had little time to dwell on it when an elf appeared from among the trees.

“Welcome to the valley!” he said.  
   
“Thank you!” said Thorin a bit gruffly; but Gandalf was already off his horse and among the elves, talking merrily with them.

“You are a little out of your way,” said the elf: “that is, if you are making for the only path across the water and to the house beyond. We will set you right, but you had best get on foot, until you are over the bridge. Are you going to stay a bit and sing with us, or will you go straight on? Supper is preparing over there,” he said. “I can smell the Wood-fires for the cooking.” The dwarves were all for supper as soon as possible just then, and would not stay. On they all went, leading their ponies, till they were brought to a good path and so at last to the very brink of the river. It was flowing fast and noisily, as mountain-streams do of a summer evening, when sun has been all day on the snow far up above. There was only a narrow bridge of stone without a parapet, as narrow as a pony could well walk on; and over that they had to go, slow and careful, one by one, each leading his pony by the bridle. The elves had brought bright lanterns to the shore, and they sang a merry song as the party went across.

The dwarves arrived at the Last Homely Home and were greeted by Lord Elrond. He was the master of the house and was their chief. He was as noble and as fair in face as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer. His house was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Evil things did not come into that valley.

The group were led to their rooms and greeted with steaming baths. Cala had never stripped so quickly and settled into the welcome warmth and soaked for ages. A servant entering her room roused her from her haze. Cala quickly scrubbed the grime from her skin and hair before stepping out. The young servant girl gasped when she turned to the dwarf and Cala blushed and quickly wrapped herself in a towel, “It’s nothing. Just an old injury.” She had forgotten about the scar running across her chest down her stomach when she had stepped out.

“What’s your name?” Cala tried to befriend the girls who she had frightened.

The girl quickly curtsies, “Imra, milady. I’m terribly sorry for my reaction.”

Cala let out a laugh, “Think nothing of it. I forget it’s there most of the time and I’m not a lady so Cala will do just fine.”

“Cala is an odd name, milady. I mean, not milady.”

“It’s short for Calamintha.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you but it’s such a mouthful that Cala just works better. Now where are my clothes?”

“I hope you don’t think me presumptuous, but I sent them to be cleaned and mended. I managed to find a dress that could work for you.”

“Thank you Imra, I’m sure whatever you found will work and it’s not too presumptuous, I probably would have burned them if I had seen them.”

Irma helped Cala into her corset and pulled it tighter than Cala was ever able to do herself. She went to wrap her bindings, but Imra stopping her explaining that elvish dresses didn’t work with her bindings. She slipped the dress over her head and led her to a mirror. Cala let out a sound of disbelief. There was no way this was her. She looked regal. The dark blue showed off her creamy skin and made her eyes seem like sapphires. Her figure was on full display, with her waist draw in tightly and her breasts more on display than ever before.

Imra guided her to a small table and began brushing her hair. Cala reached back to braid it, but Imra stopped her. “Your hair is so beautiful. I’ve never seem hair so bright and it curls so prettily.”

“But how will I fight?”

“Fight? You’re having a welcome dinner. There will be no fighting.”

Cala nodded and Imra led her to the dining hall, practically dragging her since Cala kept getting distracted by her surroundings. When she arrived, she saw that all of her companions had already bathed. Suddenly, she felt a wave of self consciousness crash into her and she stopped. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t go to dinner.”

“But you look so beautiful.”

“They’ll all stare at me. I stand out too much. Plus you can see my scar”

“Nonsense, you stand out just enough and the scar is barely visible in this dress. Maybe your group needs a reminder that you’re a woman.” Before she could argue she heard Kili call her name. She groaned and sent up a curse, she’d been spotted.

The princeling marched over and then stopped short, “Wow, Cala.” He let out a wolf whistle.

Cala glared at him, “Don’t make me kick you.” Kili laughed at her threat and started to pull her towards the table. Nausea overtook her the more she saw them staring. She shrunk behind Kili, trying to hide from the stares.

“Blimey Cala, if I wasn’t married I’d get on one knee right now,” Gloin called out. Cala’s cheeks burned as hot as a forge at the compliment, trying to hide behind her hair. Oin elbowed his brother and then motioned for Cala to sit next to him. He whispered to her, “You look lovely lass.” She smiled softly to him and placed her hand on his arm in thanks. Neither saw the king openly glaring at the familiarity being shared. Thankfully, Elrond rose and gave a speech welcoming the King Under the Mountain and his Company, which distracted from Cala.

As the night went on and more alcohol was consumed and the filters started to fall away, Kili turned to Cala, “So where did those come from?” He motioned to her chest. Cala’s eyes widened and then she grew annoyed, “They’ve always been there.” Her eyes were filled with fury and Fili quickly pulled his brother away.

“I think I will head back to my chambers,” Cala said before trying to escape but Gandalf called after her. She turned and he motioned her back over.

“Calamintha, this is Lord Elrond.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Lord,” Cala fell into a curtsey.

“Rise, please, there is no need for such formality. Now how did you come to meet this group of dwarves.” Cala smiled and started to share the tale of how she came to drop off books and ended up leaving on a quest. Elrond gave her all of his attention and once again, she was unaware of the angry dwarf staring. Kili and Fili continued to believe it was jealousy, but in this moment, all he felt was white hot rage. He rose from his seat and stalked towards Cala.

“We need to speak,” he grabbed her arm and led her out of the dining hall not knowing or caring that everyone had stopped and was waiting to see what would happen. “How dare you!”

Cala was confused and angry, “How dare I? How dare you! I care not if you are king, you don’t drag me anywhere like rag doll or interrupt a conversation like that! I am not a child!”

“No, you’re a half-breed who thinks too highly of herself.” Cala drew back in shock, “Don’t think I didn’t hear you telling my nephews how easily you threw away your dwarfism. You’re not fit to be a whole dwarf let alone half. You'd rather hide out among hobbits than embrace your heritage.You are a disgrace. And now you flirt with elves after I told you that our relationship is not an easy one! You are act as though everyone around you is a potential catch. You are no better than a town bed warmer.” Cala looked at Thorin with fear and anger in her eyes.

“You’ll be glad to know that not everyone is a potential catch. You will never have your bed warmed by me you bastard. You’ll never be worth my time.” Her chest heaving, she then turned and ran. She stopped when she found a small atrium with a fountain and collapsed to the ground. She grasped at her chest, trying to catch her breath but all she could do was sob and gasp for air.

Inside the hall everyone sat in silence, having heard the entire exchange. Gandalf and Elrond watched as Thorin walked in a few moments later and sat back in his chair and swallowed the remnants of his ale. He looked up and was greeted with glares and looks of horror. “You bastard,” Fili spoke first, surprising everyone since Kili was usually the one to speak out. Thorin looked surprised and prepared to tell his nephew off for speaking to him like that, but Fili was out the door with a quick, “I’m going to search for her.” 

Kili moved to join his brother, but then turned, “You don’t realize the damage you have caused. She is one of the kindest people I’ve met! She’s done nothing to you except stand up for Bilbo once weeks ago and has apologized for it. She’s been through enough without you degrading her. Who cares that she is half hobbit. I don’t, Gandalf doesn’t. Oin and Gandalf don’t. Hell, Gloin has halfway proposed to her. She’s made an effort with Bifur. Everyone is okay with her. What is so terrible about her that you would treat a woman like that. You always taught us to respect woman always, but does she just not count? You imply that her kindness is the same as that of a whore’s. That she doesn’t care for us and is only in it for the prize. She has never even mentioned the gold! I’m going to help Fili.”

As Kili went towards the exit, Fili came bursting back in, “I can’t find her. She’s not in her room and no one has seen her.” The Company members all rose and went to search for Cala, leaving Thorin alone, starting into his empty cup. Elrond and Gandalf had left as well, to organize a search.

Cala still sat on the stone ground, trying to catch her breath as tears streamed down her face. She turned when a noise sounded and there was Bifur. He sat down beside her and traced “O.K” onto her palm like she had shown him. She looked up and shook her head softly. Bifur wrapped an arm around her and sat silently, with only the sounds of her fresh wave of tears. Even if Bifur wouldn’t speak to her, he recognized deep pain and knew that only way to heal is to let it out, so he let her cry on him until they started to dwindle and he looked down to see she had fallen asleep. She gathered her in his arms and carried her to her room. He came out and the Ori trio and in Khuzdul told them he had found her inconsolable and she only stopped crying when she collapsed from exhaustion. Dori, Ori, and Nori shook their heads and went to find the others and tell them their petite friend had been found.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Cala was awakened by Imra and was incredibly confused how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was Bifur finding her. Imra looked at her with concern, “Are you alright?”

Cala sighed, “So I’m guessing everyone knows.”

“Everyone heard it, I’m afraid.” Cala groaned at that information and fell back on the bed. “I’m sorry, but you have a group of dwarves waiting outside your room.

As Imra told her this Cala heard Kili call out, “CAAAAAALLLLLAAAMMINTHA!” Before she could stop it, a smile spread across her face.

“Well I guess I better get dressed then.”

“You’re going to see them,” Imra was shocked.

“I need too or Kili will just get louder and louder. Besides they’re not all bad. Now let me get dressed quickly.” Imra handed her her freshly laundered clothes and once she had pulled everything on, she motioned her the dwarves to be let in. Cala sat on the stool once again, letting Imra tame her hair, while the Company, minus Thorin and Gandalf, shuffled into the room.

“Ye alright lass?” Oin decided to break the silence.

“No, but I will be.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing, but I’ll manage. I imagine you’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Are you not coming with us?” Kili sounded heartbroken.

“I thought I was no longer wanted.” Cries came from the dwarves.

“Of course you are wanted. Ignore Thorin and please come back with us. We would miss you very much. I needed you Cala,” Bilbo said, knowing he needed his friend now more than ever. Cala sat with her back to them, her hair falling in a thick braid which whipped like a rope when she turned to look at the ragtag group.

“I…,” she saw that Kili’s bottom lip had almost become too quiver and she remembered they had become all she had left, “Okay.”

“Well then lass. It’s time to pack. We plan to leave by midday.” Dwalin was surprised when Cala jumped out of her seat and hugged the bald dwarf.

“Right. I will be ready by then,” Cala jumped to work, wiping the tears from her eyes and began redoing her pack and making sure her blades were sharp. The dwarves and hobbit shared a look of surprise at the quick turnaround of emotion but said nothing and left to prepare.

While the company did that, Thorin was with Elrond and Gandalf. “I disagree with your actions dwarf, but Gandalf informs me this quest is highly important. I will help you but you are not the honorable dwarf you claim to be.” Elrond knew all about runes of every kind. That day he looked at the swords they had brought from the trolls’ lair, and he said: “These are not troll-make. They are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West, my kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. They must have come from a dragon’s hoard or goblin plunder, for dragons and goblins destroyed that city many ages ago. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a famous blade. This, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the king of Gondolin once wore. Keep them well!”

“Whence did the trolls get them, I wonder?” said Thorin looking at his sword with new interest.  
   
“I could not say,” said Elrond, “but one may guess that your trolls had plundered other plunderers, or come on the remnants of old robberies in some hold in the mountains of the North. I have heard that there are still forgotten treasures of old to be found in the deserted caverns of the mines of Moria, since the dwarf and goblin war.”  
   
Thorin pondered these words. “I will keep this sword in honour,” he said. “May it soon cleave goblins once again!”

“A wish that is likely to be granted soon enough in the mountains!” said Elrond. “But show me now your map!” He took it and gazed long at it, and he shook his head; for if he did not altogether approve of dwarves and their love of gold, he hated dragons and their cruel wickedness, and he grieved to remember the ruin of the town of Dale and its merry bells, and the burned banks of the bright River Running. The moon was shining in a broad silver crescent. He held up the map and the white light shone through it. “What is this?” he said. “There are moon-letters here, beside the plain runes which say ‘five feet high the door and three may walk abreast.’”

“What do they say?” asked Gandalf and Thorin together, a bit vexed perhaps that even Elrond should have found this out first, though really there had not been a chance before, and there would not have been another until goodness knows when.  
   
“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks,” read Elrond, “and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.”

“Durin, Durin!” said Thorin. “He was the father of the fathers of the eldest race of Dwarves, the Longbeards, and my first ancestor: I am his heir.”  
   
“Then what is Durin’s Day?” asked Elrond.  
   
“The first day of the dwarves’ New Year,” said Thorin, “is as all should know the first, day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter. We still call it Durin’s Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together. But this will not help us much, I fear, for it passes our skill in these days to guess when such a time will come again.”  
   
“That remains to be seen,” said Gandalf. “Is there any more writing?”

“None to be seen by this moon,” said Elrond, and he gave the map back to Thorin. They rode away that afternoon amid songs of farewell and good speed, with their hearts ready for more adventure, and with a knowledge of the road they must follow over the Misty Mountains to the land beyond.

They traveled hard for two days before stopping. Cala hadn’t eaten at all in the past two days and everyone was starting to notice she was pulling away. When they finally settled down, everyone sat around the fire to eat and Cala announced that she was going for a walk. When she was far enough, the dwarves turned on Thorin. “You have to apologize,” Bofur decided to speak first. Thorin showed reluctance and the others started to tell him off for his terrible treatment of Cala and finally he agreed and went after the young woman.   
“Cala! Where the hell are you?’

“Thorin?”

“I need to speak to you.”

Cala looked him with contempt and crossed her arms, “Well go ahead.”

“The Company has informed me that my behavior towards you was not appropriate.

Cala scoffed, “So this isn’t your apology. The others have had to force you to even speak to me. Well you can just return to them then. I have nothing to say to you.

Thorin sighed, “You don’t understand.”

“No,” Cala whirled around to look at Thorin, “It’s you who doesn’t understand. I don’t understand why you are so cruel. Those things you said in Rivendell were awful! To make it even worse, everyone heard! If the king thinks I’m just a disgrace and a half-breed then what is anyone else supposed to think. I hid for years because after my father died I was tortured by the dwarves around me.” Cala pulled the laces open on her shirt, baring her bindings and the scar across her chest, “Do you see this? This runs from chest to stomach. This was from a dwarf who thought it would be fun to “play” with the freak and half-breed. So yes, being a hobbit is easier because at least I was safe. Dwarves are violent. They have weapons and love playing with it. Dwalin with his hammers and you with Orcrist are examples of how prized violence is. I want no part of that. I’ve had enough violence and hatred for a lifetime and to have such a powerful dwarf speak those words might has well condemned me for life as the freak. So thank you, your majesty,” Cala bowed as the disdain dripped from her words, “You’ve made your feelings incredibly clear and I understand perfectly. I will help you reclaim Erebor for the dwarves that do seem to stand my presence and then I will leave and you’ll never have to deal with me again.” Cala relaced her shirt and turned back towards camp, leaving Thorin alone with his thoughts of horror and regret.

Cala stormed back to camp and went straight to her bedroll. The Company watched on as Thorin came storming back into camp and watched as he spent the next day looking conflicted. He seemed to be torn between anger and shame, but none could be sure.

The journey after leaving the Last Homely Home had been treacherous, with wild weather and difficult treks. The journey was made more difficult for Cala due to her still not being able to hold down much food and her lack of sleep. Every time she laid her head down she had nightmares of how she had gotten her scar and soon gave up on getting a good nights rest. She started to take multiple watch shifts and shrugged off anyone who tries to take her place. The group saw how the circles under her eyes looked as dark as bruises and how sluggishly she moved but none could shake her from her stupor. As Cala got worse, as did Thorin’s temper. Since that day in the forest, he was angrier and every night he trained with a member of the group, going as hard as he could.

Finally after four days, she finally broke. The lack of nutrients and sleep led to her vision blurring and collapsing off of her horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is in the doghouse with everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like the first installment of this story. I was sitting by my window, listening to Richard Armitage's beautiful voice singing Misty Mountain and started writing. I have no plans at the moment for how this story plays out or how long it will be. Writing things like this are my escape from uni papers.


End file.
